Attack
by BarricadeBoy221B
Summary: Mike gets attacked and Harvey finds him. Though after a while, it becomes apparent that Mike isn't as well as they were first led to believe. Very light Marvey - the rest of the chapters can be found on my profile, under the story name 'Stable' - First time writing 'Suits' fic, so I hope you enjoy!


It was another late night for Harvey, though it wasn't just their latest case that was weighing on his mind. When it came to his work, cases were games – challenging ones more often than not, but by now that was commonplace for the closer.

No, tonight, it was his associate, or in this case, the lack of him. Mike was meant to be back going on 2 hours now, and yet Harvey was still alone in his office, the case no closer to being finished and the chances of his mood improving decreasing by the minute. With another irate glance at his watch, he snapped the lid of his laptop shut and left his office, issuing a new set of orders to Donna as she prepared to go home for the night. All she could do was tell him 'of course', not that he really seemed to care either way – by the time she looked up again, he was already at the elevator, his irritation all but radiating off of him and the overhead lights doing nothing to lighten the frown etched into his face.

The time of the year was apparent the instant Harvey stepped outside the Pearson Hardman building, icy winds biting at his bare hands and neck as he pulled the collar of his overcoat as far as it would allow. But, despite the hour and the near sub-zero air, he still opted to walk the few blocks home. As he fished in his pocket and pulled out his phone, the sight of an empty inbox prompted him to try Mikes phone again, though not even his associates brilliance could prevent a verbal beating. He knew he had his phone on him, so why wasn't he picking up? Unless he was merely ignoring Harvey, which would not end well for him when he next stepped foot inside the firm. Straight to voice mail. Again. Moving aside to allow a group of girls pass him on the sidewalk, Harvey hit the 'call' button for the last time, but slowed to a stop when he heard Mikes phone . Only this time, it wasn't just coming from the other end of the line.

The faint sound of the kids ringtone was coming from somewhere in the alleyway Harvey had paused by. His frown now becoming one of concern, Harvey held the phone away from his ear, pressing 'call' once more to keep the sound going. Gingerly stepping over trash bags and overturned bins, he approached a large dumpster, thinking that was where the sound was emanating from. Though, as it turned out, the phone was behind the dumpster, gripped in the hand of its seemingly unconscious owner.

Hurriedly moving bags of rubbish aside, Harvey fell to a crouch as he repeated Mikes name over and over, 911 rapidly being dialled into his cell. Once help was sent for, he shoved his phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, his over coat now being pulled off and used to keep Mike warm. The side street was very poorly lit - nearly too dark to really assess the damage done – but the wet, cold feel of Mikes skin as Harvey tried to take his pulse told him he was bleeding, and that he'd been out here a long time. Two hours was a good guess. And the fact that the blood still felt fresh meant that his injuries weren't shallow. As far as he could tell through the rising panic in him, Mike wasn't dead, but he still wasn't responding to anything Harvey was saying. Still, he carried on, hoping to rouse him.

"Mike! Mike, hey – can you hear me? I need you to wake up, come on. Mike!" Eventually, the associate seemed to come round, though all Harvey got at first was a hoarse moan in response. After a little more encouragement, he became a little more responsive.

"…Harvey?"  
"It's alright, Mike – you're going to be fine"  
"…'m sorry…"

"What?"  
"Your suit…"  
It was only then that Harvey noticed that Mike was wearing the spare suit from his office –not exactly a favourite, but it was certainly expensive. Then and there however, Harvey couldn't have cared less.  
"Forget the damn suit – look at me, come on. Stay with me. What the hell happened?" When it came to keeping his cool, Harvey liked to think of himself as an expert, and as much as he would have liked to lose it now, it wasn't the time, nor would it get Mike help any faster. So, when he spoke, he made sure to keep his tone steady and full of its usual authority. It was only when Mike tried to move and let out a sharp groan of pain that Harvey realized that, in his hurry to make sure Mike was alive, he'd failed to check him over fully. Gently pulling his overcoat away, a deadweight of dread formed in the pit of his stomach as he saw, even in the half light, the fact that his normally white shirt was now saturated with thick, dark liquid. Mikes hand had been clasped to his side since Harvey had found him, seemingly trying to keep a wound closed. Swallowing back panic, Harvey covered Mike over again, and gave his wrist a firm squeeze when it looked like Mike was zoning out. It worked, though it was apparent he'd chosen another injury to disturb.

"Sorry – look, don't try to move anymore. You've lost a lot of blood-"  
"Thanks for the newsflash…" When he glanced up, he saw that Mike was smirking, albeit weakly.

"The case files…they're, um, in the dumpster, I think… I didn't really see-"  
"Forget the case, Mike – and stop moving! Listen, help's on its way – you've just got to hold on till it gets here"  
"I know, I know…I'm trying, it just hurts…like…_a lot_. I-I'm talking…'being punched in the balls and having your kidney stolen' kind of hurt…" it took a little longer for Mike to get his sentence out, his voice slightly slurred, his eyes closed as if that'd help the pain he was in cease.

"I believe you. Maybe try focusing on something else"  
"…See, I would, but the thing is…all I've got right now is the fact I've been stabbed, aaand…you. You're just as much of a pain in the ass, so…" Harvey couldn't help but smile a little.

"You weren't stabbed in the ass though"  
"And I'll continue to be thankful for that…" For a minute, Mike seemed to slip out of consciousness, his head lolling back against the wall he was slumped against. For a second – just a second – Harvey let his cool demeanour fall as he tried to wake him up again.  
"Mike! Mike, come on! Mike I swear to God if you don't wake up I'll-"  
"Let me guess…you'll fire me..?" Mikes voice seemed more strained than before, but Harvey was relieved to hear it again regardless. Slowly and shakily, Mike pulled the hand that had been holding his phone out from under Harvey's coat, and reached it forward, fingers gripping his boss's sleeve like a frightened child. Once he got out of this – if he got out of it – and he was back at work, Harvey would probably tease him. Light heartedly, of course. 'Someone your age, wanting someone's hand to hold? Your boss, of all people? Next time you get attacked, at least make sure to tell me you'll be late back' No. Harvey wouldn't be that cruel, in jest or otherwise, not to Mike at least. This was confirmed by the older Lawyer enveloping the smaller hand in one of his, the stark difference in temperature from his skin to Mikes shocking. They only spoke enough after that to reassure Harvey Mike was still awake, and to keep Mike vaguely alert. Despite the thickness of the coat covering him, he still felt freezing, but even the numbing wind couldn't anesthetize the various kinds of pain he was in. The jutting wound in his side sent sharp jolts of agony through him with every breath, the bruises of various sizes and severity all ached, his head hurt like no hangover ever could.

It had seemed like hours since Harvey had called for help, but when sirens cut above the noise of the city, and red and blue lights alternately illuminated the alley, there was a visible amount of relief on both of the men's faces. Giving Mike's hand a quick squeeze, Harvey straightened up, legs stiff as he moved out of the way of the paramedics, answering their questions quickly and watching them like a hawk. Mike was aware of the medics checking his vitals, shining lights into his eyes, carefully loading him on a spinal board, but for a second he realized he couldn't see his boss anymore. The headboard was uncomfortably tight, as were the straps used to secure him down, and for the first time since he'd woken up, he felt sick.  
"Harvey..?"  
"I'm right here, Mike" Although he could only hear him, Mike still let himself relax a little, though as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance and the doors were slammed shut, the need for familiarity quickly rose again. Splaying his bruised, bloodied fingers out as far as he could, it was only a few seconds before Harvey's hand found his again. He didn't remember much more of the journey after that – all that seemed to follow was a cocktail of strange voices and bright lights, his head swimming with pain and the need to sleep.

No sooner had they arrived at the hospital was Harvey pushed aside in favour of nurses and doctors, all a flurry of scrubs and stethoscopes and acronyms. All he could do was follow as closely as he could as Mike was wheeled into the resuscitation bay, although he was promptly stopped outside the doors. They worked on Mike quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine. And all Harvey could do was watch through glass, stuck in the position he hated most; being out of control. Powerless to tip the odds back in his favour. Close to losing something precious to him. It was simple; Harvey Specter did not lose. But now, as a machine with various lights stood as his only measure of how Mike was doing, and as Harvey watched as tubes and needles were skilfully inserted by desensitized hands…he felt an uncommon rise of fear stir in the pit of his chest.

In that moment, he didn't care about the case they were currently working or any that had come before or would come after this. He would throw 100 clients away in a heartbeat if it meant Mike got through this with his life. Had this been a year and 8 months ago, he would have rather died himself than let his stellar reputation flounder. But then this brilliant, sharp-witted drug mule with a sense of humour to match his own had stumbled into his interview and into his life and slowly, reputation had been pushed to second place. Mike would probably never know how many times Harvey had covered for him, defended him, even put his own career on the line for him. And yet, despite the risk, Harvey still insisted on keeping him close. Mike was his associate, his second in command, his right hand. _His. _

After some time, the doctor overseeing Mikes care straightened up, and pulled off his examination gloves as he gave instructions to the nurses, before shooting Harvey a glance. With another nod he approached the doors, and greeted Harvey with a polite nod.  
"You're the one who found him, correct?"  
"Yes, Harvey Specter – when can I see him?"  
"You can't, I'm afraid. Only next of kin until he's completely stable-"  
"I'm his boss" The Doctor could only shrug.  
"It's still a 'no', I'm sorry. You're welcome to wait in the-" Harvey cut him off mid-sentence, a hand coming out to stop him leaving.

"You don't get it; he doesn't have anyone else." With another glance at Mike, Harvey lowered his voice a little.  
"His last remaining relative passed away a month ago. I'm the closest thing he has, I look out for him. Please. Just, tell me how he is at the very least." Weighing the sincerity in Harvey's tone, eventually the Doctor sighed, and gave the lawyer what he wanted to hear. Apparently, the stab wound itself was deep, but didn't do too much damage. There were broken ribs, severe bruising around the abdomen and chest, and various lacerations to the head and face. It was the head injury that they were concerned about; Mike needed scans. Mike might need an operation. Mike would need to be kept in intensive care until they knew either way. He was in the process of being stabilized, but if they managed that it wouldn't mean he was out of the woods. Harvey took this all in, his jaw tightening as the list got longer.

"They're resetting his wrist now – we think it's a fracture, easily fixed – but we won't know anymore until he's been for an X-Ray. It's likely when he was being beaten-"  
"Beaten? You mean-"  
"Yes – likely with a blunt object. It's likely that he had his hands up, protecting his face – hence the broken fingers and the wrist." Rubbing a hand over his face, Harvey looked from the doctor to his patient, not quite knowing what to think.  
"I know you're concerned, but he's strong. You have to believe he'll be fine."  
"I believe in facts. And his don't look all that promising."  
"I know it sounds bad now, but if you leave your details with the receptionist you can come back tomorrow, see how he is. We'll contact you if he-"  
"I'm not leaving." Sighing, the Doctor tried again.  
"He'll be in for a week, maybe two at minimum"  
"I was here when he came in, I'll be damn sure I'll be here until he leaves. I'm not going anywhere." Seeing it was pointless to argue, the doctor raised his hands from his hips in surrender.

"Your choice. I have to say though, not many high-flyers willing to stick it out for their employee's like this" Harvey offered a light, half-hearted smile in return.

"Not many employees like Mike."


End file.
